Tuesday, March 31, 2009

It's Sunday. Our last game of the year. I'm the last player out of the locker room. Running a little behind, I'm carrying my helmet in one hand and my glove and blocker in the other hand.

I walk down the hall, past the lobby (that has glass looking into the rink) and to the bench.

I look down.

And there it is.

A bra - MY BRA - hanging off of my equipment. The little bugger had gotten caught in a piece of velcro. And it trailed behind me like a damn streamer.

I had two choices at that moment:1. Dart back to the locker room.2. Confess.

I 'fessed up. Doubling over in laughter, I showed a teammate. The referee noticed and cracked up. And I peeled that sucker (which had been in my bag since my tournament in Canada!) off of my equipment and threw it on the bench.

I stretched out. And then I hear our coach - one of the girls dads, he's about 75 years old - say "is that a BRA?!"

So I confessed. Again. And then he delivered my bra into the locker room for me.

Monday, March 30, 2009

In two weeks, I hope to post something nonsensical - in all capital letters - about how I AM GOING TO THE WORLD CUP, OMG.

I'm inclined to spend 6 hours per day researching this trip in excruciatingly detailed depth. That's how I roll. Unfortunately, my job isn't cooperating. So the list of potential hotel rooms will have to wait. As will spending two days reading reviews of different safari companies. As well the obsessive checking of my passport status. (Side note: why on earth isn't it here yet? I was told three weeks. It has been four. Am nervous, people! I'm traveling in just 14 months!)

Sunday, March 29, 2009

-Moving. MOVING FUCKING SUCKS. That's really all I need to say about that.

-The weather. It was beautiful. I wasted the day schlepping my crap from one place to another.

-Cable installation. I can NEVER get my cable installed without some to do. This time, the guy left while he waited for some other cable dude to come and fix a problem. So what would've taken 45 minutes took 3 hours.

-My sister's team lost in finals of their national tournament and that is never fun.

-Being ungrateful. For example - my diploma frame is SO SCRATCHED. And it bugs the shit out of me. My aunt paid a ridiculous amount of money for that frame and the two UM mats it came with. Oh, speaking of UM mats...did the other one make it to my apartment? It appears not. Which annoys me. And I'm annoyed that I'm so ungrateful and annoyed.

-I ended up with some of Anna's stuff and I honestly didn't want any of Anna's stuff.

-My crippled aunt (Anna's mom) was over scrubbing the house. So I need to feel guilty about that.

-Meg got into PT school. It wasn't looking good, but one of the programs she was waitlisted at called her on Friday morning and let her know the good news. The kid was so excited - she called to tell me at work and just blurted it into the phone, not bothering to even say hello.

-My move is thisclose to being complete. I have a few things to pick up at the house and need to call the landlord to see if he wants to walk through it with me before I turn in our keys. But the hard part is over.

-The weather on Saturday? Absolutely gorgeous. So lucky for a day that we had to haul all of my possessions across town.

-The World Figure Skating Championships. I only got to see a few hours, but you know I always love a good skating competition.

-My sister's hockey team? A very good showing at their national championship. Meg called to give us updates - and you could tell she was having a great time.

Friday, March 27, 2009

My sister's hockey team is competing in their national tournament in New York this weekend.

It is a very big deal. They won last year (when Meg was still playing on her college team), so they have that extra pressure of being the defending champions. But, if they win, they're basically staking claim as the best non-college women's team in the country.

(As it stands right now, they're in the top 8, which isn't too shabby, either.)

I wanted to go this weekend, but it just didn't work out. I have to move. I have a shit-ton of homework to do. I have my own hockey game and a skating competition next weekend to get ready for. Plus I'd have to take a day off of work.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

I know that I mentioned Saturday's Bridemaid Luncheon/Bootcamp, but I haven't had the strength to craft a narrative of the event. I lost 6 hours of my life to it and I don't intend on losing any more, thankyouverymuch.

The highlight of the Bridesmaid Luncheon/Bootcamp was getting my very own bridesmaid t-shirt. OMG. Have always wanted one. So my life is complete.

But. I was very unsure of how and where to wear it. Lucky for me, the amazing goddess who is the bride emailed me instructions.

JOY!

Hello Again,

Thanks again for coming out to lunch and for all your help on Saturday. We got lots done!! I've gotten sleep this week, almost caught up with thank you notes and able to focus on other pressing matters.

I forgot to let you know that the shirts I gave you on Saturday are handmade by myself and a friend at work who had access to a screen printing press so please be gentle with them (ie no washer machine).

I've washed them twice and ironed them (around the printed & stoned area) so no more need to be done.

I glued the stones on with E6000 so the stones probably won't fall off but if one does, please let me know so I can put the stones back on (I have extras).

May I recommend not storing the shirts in the gift bags as can get very wrinkled!

The pink color was a special mix ink and it was all used up the day we printed the shirts so please be careful & gentle with the shirts...no extras.

Please wear your t-shirt to the Rehearsal Ceremony and dinner on June 5 at 4pm at the church. More details to come as I get them.

Please wear the t-shirts with jeans and the silver bridesmaids shoes (that way you can break them in too) on Rehearsal Day. If the date gets closer and there will be a heatwave we'll look at other options in lieu of jeans. The church as A/C and the restaurant the groom's parents pick should have A/C too.

If you would like to wear your t-shirt to Brunch the next morning in the hotel please do.

Take Care, --Brideszilla

p.s. Today is the first day I could get a call saying the invites are in and ready to be assembled. Will keep you in the loop.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Got up. Had a headache.Ate cereal with my mom. Had a headache.Filled out a job application. Had a headache.Talked with my mom about my headache. Had a headache.Showered. Dressed. Prettified. Had a headache.Went to Bridesmaid Luncheon. Had a headache.Listened to the bride complain ad nauseum about her mother-in-law. Had a headache.Went to the bride's house for Bridal Bootcamp. Tied pink bows on anything that wasn't moving. Had a headache.Bowed out of Bridal Bootcamp early to go to Meg's hockey game. Had a headacheTalked Lucy into meeting me at Meg's hockey game, since the rink is only a few miles from her house. Had a headache.Marveled at the number of lesbians at Meg's hockey game, both on the ice and in the stands. Had a headache.Went for coffee with Lucy. Had a headache.Went home to Mom and Dad's because I knew they would feel bad for me. Had a headache.Am currently watching UM hockey blow their lead in their league tournament. Have a headache.So annoyed.So over this headache.

Friday, March 20, 2009

While it was on my radar as I finished undergrad, this paralyzing fear of the job search was not present. I blame it a little on the economy, a lot on remembering what it felt like last time around.

I'm terrified. That I'll graduate. Blink. And it will be six months, a year, and I won't have been hired somewhere. That I'll stay at the same job - the job that I could've done straight out of high school - and waste away my master's degree and all of the time and the effort and money that it was born from.

Oh, I hope I'm wrong. I know that I worry too much -- but I want nothing more than to worry for no reason.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Seems that, in the last 15 months that we've worked closely together, my boss has gotten rather comfortable with me.

14 months must be his "getting to know you" introductory period. We're now --- something else. Coworkers who have worked together for long enough, I suppose. Long enough for my boss to say "you need therapy," only half joking, and for me to take it exactly that way.

My feelings could be hurt, I guess. Except that it is the complete truth. And I really think that he told me that because he believes it, not because he wanted to make a joke or poke fun at me.

He looked at me like he wanted to strangle me. "They don't hate you," he said.

"Fine. Hate is the wrong word."

I think he's practicing on me. His youngest daughter has, from what I've gathered, a similar people-pleaser mentality. "You're just like Maddie," he'll start off saying. I'm sure he's looking at me and trying to figure out how he can fix his daughter so that she doesn't turn out like me - 26 and insecure and scared of everything and everyone.

She's 11. And probably better off than I was at her age, if her dad is already addressing her neuroses.

Maybe that's not the reason. Maybe he's just trying to get some good work out of me. Trying to bring out my best. Trying to find the diamond in the rough.

Whatever the reason, I find it amusing. Amusing and nice. It is always nice to know that someone cares, even if they can only express it in thinly-veiled jokes and references to their children.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Be nicer to my nemesis coworker.Ummm. Well, Nemesis Coworker could do just a little bit of his own work and I would be slightly nicer to him.

Oh, but everyone was making fun of him at a staff meeting and I didn't contribute. I think I might have even said something sympathetic!

Grade: C+

Take an average of 1 yoga class per week.Yoga classes that I took in February: 0.

Wow. That's progress.

Grade: F

Use my Palm Pilot.Eh. Was better in January.

Grade: C+

Get a new job.Didn't get that job I interviewed for. Disappointing but not surprising.

Did continue to drag myself to class and to my internship. Am within 2 months of graduation. Which will, someday, result in a new position.

Grade: B-

Run a half-marathon.My class schedule isn't doing me any favors. I'd like to get up and run in the mornings, but I feel like that is pretty much out of the question until I'm not at my internship until 10 pm two days a week.

I want to run. Do I get any credit for that?

Grade: C-

Give myself an allowance.Good again. Stuck to the allowance for the second month - no more cash, and no additional purchases. Except for the one dinner I bought when I was in Canada for that hockey tournament.

Monday, March 16, 2009

I'm in bed. Which is pretty much where I've been since getting home from work at 6:10 this afternoon.

I feel...dazed. Muted. Vaguely aware. Slow reflexes. I feel like me with the color turned down.

I can't quite decide if I'm sick or if I am just lazy.

To some (snotty, congested) extent, I am still sick. But the unwillingness to go to the gym and attempt to work out? That seems lazy. The sitting on my bed all night and aimlessly clicking through web pages? That seems lazy.

I'm on spring break (technically. The only difference to my schedule is that I don't have class tonight) and there are things I could be doing. I have a few tasks to finish for my internship. It wouldn't hurt to do a load of laundry. I need to pay bills. And I haven't been to the gym in two weeks, which is entirely inappropriate and uncalled for.

I only have another month of this. Not the feeling sick - I better be done with this crap by Wednesday - but the school/work/internship/move/whatever stress that I'm handling a lot less gracefully than I used do.

And then I won't confuse being sick, being lazy and being overwhelmed.

I do think that I am still sick. On account of the lack of appetite. And because I'd like to give myself the benefit of the doubt for once in my life, damnit.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

I'm oftentimes surprised by the people who choose to friend me on the Facebook. Generally they're high school classmates - people who I knew but wasn't friends with. Nobody I had any issues with. Just outside of my crowd.

Friday, March 13, 2009

I'm sick as hell. (Can you catch illness via internet? If so, GFF might have sent something funky my way. Not her fault. Blame it on an unfortunate BBQ.)

Wherever I caught this thing, its a doozy. When I lose my appetite? That's when you know its bad. And I'm not eating much of anything. What I do eat I can't even taste, anyway, so it seems pointless.

What I wanted to do was go to Mom and Dad's house and let them fawn over me for at least an hour. And then fall asleep.

But in the interest of my move, I sucked it up and came home. I half expected to fawn over myself for an hour. And then fall asleep.

Instead I spoke with my landlord. Who told me that his wife had been over showing potential tenants the house today. Excuse me? I thought that was something you gave notice of. Or at least left a note.

I ate a bit of dinner. Spicy Indian food that I barely tasted. Mmmmmm.

And I've slogged away with the mess of moving. Found some of Anna's belongings and threw them into her room (must admit, it is sort of pleasing doing so). Packed up a few things to bring home. Mopped the kitchen floor. Dug through my junk in the basement. Organized all of the plastics in the kitchen (honestly - what happens to all of the matching sets?) and did a bit of vacuuming.

I would've gotten more done if not for this nasty virus. And for Facebook. And E! And my work ethic.

(If there were actually murders a block from my workplace, I think I might have heard about them. I'm just sayin'...)

My father has never given two shits about where I've chosen to live.

So, because my dad voiced an opinion, my apartment search has been contaminated by a healthy case of paranoia. Will Dad approve? Will the handyman find me dead in the parking lot? These are the important questions I asked myself while spending hours scanning my options on Craig's List and rent.com and findaplacewhereyouwon'tgetkilled.org.

I carried around a ratty stack of possibilities for a few weeks. Too busy to spend an afternoon looking at apartments. Too keyed up to push aside my search until I had time to go on tours.

I thought I'd found a winner. A small complex. Reasonably priced - but at the upper end of my budget (or so I thought). What seemed like a decent location, though one I was somewhat unfamiliar with. I dragged Dad along. I need a second opinion. And he needed to know that his eldest daughter would not be cohabitating with baby killers and drug dealers.

Imagine my surprise when my dear ol' dad approved. We drove separately - I had to go straight to my hockey game. Dad called me a few minutes after I left. "I'm just driving around here," he tells me. "It's a great location. You'll be happy there. And it will take you less than 10 minutes to get to work."

It's nice to have someone's blessing.

And I do think I'll be happy there. It isn't where I live now - walking distance to downtown and its fabulous nightlife - but its a pretty solid place for me. Centrally located. Clean. Bright. A new stove. Storage for my stink-ass hockey bag. 10 minutes to Lucy and Chet's house. And $50/month cheaper than I had seen it advertised for.

I went there after class today and signed all of the paperwork.

Am I jinxing myself by telling you kids about this apartment before I pass the credit report?

Although. If I don't pass the credit report, I have problems a lot larger than my housing situation.

Sunday, March 08, 2009

I haven't been here in 9 days. I was at Mom and Dad's, watching sweet Blue, while the 'rents were living it up in Palm Springs.

Things didn't stop around here.

The house is officially mine and only mine. Minus all of the random shit that Anna left here.

She didn't clean out the refrigerator, which burns me. She was forever leaving food in there to rot. She was forever buying a new bottle of salad dressing or chocolate syrup - even though she already had 6 of each. And I was forever throwing away her month-old loaves of bread and her decomposing bags of salad. So I suppose that I will this one last time. Charming.

She left a lot here. She had no incentive to finish the job that she started. All of her bedroom furniture is here for her parents to deal with. (I assume. It sure as hell isn't going to be me.) I made one loop around the house and picked up all of the things that weren't mine and filled her bed with it. I'm not done. But it was therapeutic.

I think that I can be over being pissed about the situation. Anna fucked me over and now it's done with.

I also think I found an apartment.

Knowing that you won't be homeless goes a long way towards finding forgiveness at the bottom of your cold, black heart.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

It was really traumatic for me. There was the whole making new friends issue to stress about. And we were moving from a two-story house into a ranch and that seemed like a major downgrade. Apparently those things matter when you're in fifth grade. And apparently I never noticed the lake at the bottom of the hill.

My parents had always wanted to raise us on a lake. And they'd always wanted to raise us near our grandparents. Mom and Dad went to high school together - our grandparents lived just a few miles apart.

We were minutes from our grandparents. It was really awesome. The time that there was a mouse in the mousetrap that we were too scared to get out? Grandma came over and rescued us. When we needed a ride to soccer practice? Grandma drove us. They could just stop in - maybe to drop something off or perhaps just to say hello - and it didn't require them to drive 40 minutes out of the way in order to do so.

I'm not sure that even my parents realize what a great choice it really was.

I realize it often.

I realized it this week. I'm staying at Mom and Dad's, with Blue, because they're on vacation. I dropped Blue off on Tuesday morning. I picked her up on Wednesday night. It wasn't fair to leave the girl at home alone for two straight days. Grandma and Grandpa were happy to help. And I got hugs and kisses when I dropped her off. And I got hugs and kisses and reports on how often she pooped when I picked her up.

When I got to their house last night - nearly 11:00 pm - I was an exhausted wreck. And I looked the part. "You haven't had any dinner, have you?" Grandma asked. She bustled about the kitchen, pulling together food for me two bring home. Two different cupcakes. Three blueberry muffins. Bread. Fruit salad. Individual meatloaves she made in muffin tins. A pear. Chicken noodle soup. Tucked into a bag for me to take home. I was very grateful.

When Blue and I were ready to leave, Grandpa met us at the door. I gave him a hug and a kiss. I thanked him again for watching his furry granddaughter. We went into the driveway and out to my car. He stood on the front porch.

He does that. Stands on the front porch and watches you go. Ever since I was old enough to notice it I knew to love it. He stands under the porch light, hands in his pockets, and you feel loved.

Not much different than how you feel carrying a heavy bag of food from grandma.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Yesterday, March 2, I probably could have expressed an opinion on grief. Explained about how, eventually, it releases you from its powerful grip. How time heals you. How you learn to move on.

That is what I would have said.

And today I wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

My grandma died 6 years ago today. She passed away in the guest bedroom of her house – she had a heart attack. She was alone. She must’ve gotten into the bed because she didn’t feel well. She got out of bed. To make a call for help, maybe. We’ll never know. My not-really-grandpa, her live-in boyfriend of over 30 years, found her on the floor. She was dead.

I really hate that she died alone.

I really hate that she died on the floor.

My mom and my sister were at the house before the paramedics took her body. Meg had to see our grandmother wheeled away. I hate that, too.

Facebook made me cry today. Meg’s status was a simple Meg --- xoxo. The hugs and the kisses, of course, being our silly little inside joke with Grandma that became a lot more after she died. Our Aunt Annette replied with xoxoxo. I replied with XOXOX. Cousin Liz left hugs and kisses, too.

Grief is always present.

All that time gives you is more mechanisms with which to hide it. Time doesn’t give you healing. I will not heal. I’m not going to move on. I’m not getting another grandma. I can’t replace her. I can’t be okay with her being gone.

So I wear my XO ring.

And I’ll go to dinner with Meg at Grandma’s favorite restaurant.

And the third of March will always be sad.

Because she is my grandma. Because I love her. And because, on every other day of the year, I tuck away how much I miss her.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Q. What is a girl to do after a week that started off like this?1. Setting her alarm clock a half-hour too early2. Thinking that she lost Blue in the early-morning darkness3. Having the water turn off mid-shower because - surprise! - the pipes in the house had frozen overnight(It is so cold here.)4. Too busy of a workday. Boss mildly crabby. Wanted to cry.5. Did not have time for lunch. (Always a recipe for disaster.)6. Rush to school. For a midterm. That I didn't study for. (I think I did okay.)7. Drive to Grandma and Grandpa's to pick up Blue (I felt bad leaving her at the house all day).8. Stop at the grocery store for eggs and milk. And edamame.

A. Read Perez Hilton and eat ravioli. With her hands.

And go to bed as early as possible to rest up for a big day that includes: a visit to La Doctora Del Cha Cha, work and an endless night of glory at my internship.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Is it just me or has my blog become a hideous pile of smelly crap as of late?

I know that I am notoriously hard on myself or whatnot, but if the things that I am writing/thinking/linking/blogging are boring the hell out of me - I can't imagine that they're not boring the hell out of all of you.

(When I say "all of you," I do mean each and every one of my 3 readers. Shout out to you fine folk.)

I wish, on a daily basis, that I had something more interesting to write about. And I wish, on a daily basis, that I had more time to write it in.

It's just...I don't know. How many times can you write "growing up is hard" before it becomes formulaic and expected? Even if you juxtapose it with the occasional "boys don't like me" and "my family is fucking nuts" posts? Four years might be the limit. I'm bored with myself. Bored with my blog.

Hi. I'm A.

Born, raised, educated in the Midwest, I am such a Midwesterner. So Midwestern, if you will.

I am: a blogger of 8+ years, forever searching for my next athletic challenge, hopelessly overscheduled and always, always eating.

I started So Midwestern right after I graduated from college, hoping to chronicle my transition to adulthood. Graduate school, four half marathons, two new nephews, three apartments, a trip to Africa, a sprinkle of heartbreak, dozens of unfinished knitting projects, four turns as a bridesmaid, 8,913 job applications and two full-time positions later: I’m fairly convinced that the day when I feel like a legitimate, full-fledged grownup will never come. So I’ll just keep on blogging.

I write about a little bit of everything and a lot of nothing. Toss my ramblings with a few pictures, a touch of swearing and an endless appreciation for the beauty that is David Beckham and you have So Midwestern. Welcome.